WASHED AND READY TO EAT

Jacko, eat your heart out...

2009-07-05T14:28:00.000-07:00

The term ‘character’ is perhaps a little overused, but – believe me – Hugh Symons was a character. Not many people, after all, get to star in GQ magazine at the age of 80. And even fewer octogenarians are selected for inclusion because they happen still to be playing football.

Hughie died recently after a period in a major London teaching hospital. He had once been a consultant there, but unfortunately – as old age and memory loss took its toll – he wouldn’t have recalled the fact. And the staff who treated him were none the wiser either.

If we turned back the clock a few decades, however, Hughie was actually a rheumatology specialist and in charge of physical medicine. Leading football players of the day would come to him with their knocks and injuries, which would have put him into seventh heaven, as Hughie himself had been a very useful player in his time. He signed for Wimbledon in an age when they’d pay you a shilling and cover your bus fare if you turned up for training. In the end, the football became a hobby rather than a profession. But a very serious hobby that took up a whole load of free time.

My father played with Hughie in a Sunday side known as London Hospitals. Each year, this unlikely band of medics and a few of their relatives and friends secured a season’s worth of friendlies based largely on Hugh’s personal contacts and organisational skills. The games would lead them to places like Gunnersbury Park, where they’d take on the staff of the District Line. Any ball that didn’t end up in the net had to be rescued from nearby tracks by one of the players, who’d need to be careful to avoid the live rail.

As a teenager, I frequently substituted for regular team members who got lost en route or forgot to set their alarm clock of a Sunday morning. I remember attractive home games at Cobham on a ground which later became a training centre for Chelsea FC, as well as rather less attractive away games in the shadow of Wormwood Scrubs. These friendly fixtures would have a ref, but no linesmen to give any guidance on fouls and offsides. Brawls were not unknown.

At the heart of the action was Hughie, who at this point – in the early 1980s – would have been well into his sixties. He lacked pace, as you might expect, but was still skilful enough to make some telling passes and score the occasional goal.

Why on earth would a group of young men turn out on a Sunday to play football with a guy who was old enough to be their father? Quite simply, because he was a legend on this particular circuit. And without his contacts and constant phone calls, there wouldn’t have been any games. No one else could be bothered with the logistics and hard graft.

Every so often, you’d get a newspaper article or regional TV news item about Hughie, who was also known as ‘Tank’ because of his formidable presence on the pitch. The angle was always the same: an extraordinary old guy who still played football at a time in his life when you’d expect him to have hung up his boots and sat himself in an armchair with a copy of Saga Magazine. There was more to Hughie than the stories suggested though. Not just the medical career, but also a spell in the Middle East with the armed forces after the war, a keen interest in ornithology and a fascination with politics. Hughie had stood as a Liberal parliamentary candidate in the early 50s, but had more in common with the old-style leftists of the Labour Party such as Tony Benn than any modern-day Lib Dem like Vince Cable or Nick Clegg. He was happy to voice strong opinions on topical issues, particularly after a couple of glasses of medicinal white wine and maybe the occasional vodka chaser or two.

I feel we gave Hugh a decent send-off at the South London Crematorium in Streatham last week. Amid all the hullabaloo surrounding the death of Michael Jackson, it’s always good to remind ourselves that we don’t have to turn on the television or surf the web to find exceptional and inspirational characters. I trust a football is being gently knocked against the Pearly Gates as I write.

Where does it all end?

2009-07-05T13:41:00.000-07:00

Casualty 1909 is an interesting idea. But there must surely be more mileage in this particular medical TV franchise. I'm thinking Casualty 1609, perhaps.

"Fear not, for our physic works! The yellow bile is much decreased."

"Ok, I'll let Charlie know before he finishes his shift..."

Signor Felicetti knows we all like a bit of rough

2009-07-05T13:01:00.000-07:00

From a packet of Marks & Spencer pasta:

Authentic Italian pasta, made & air dried in the Italian Alps by the Felicetti family, using select Italian wheat & a bronze die for a rough texture that picks up every drop of sauce.

If only I could meet the Felicettis and shake every member of the family firmly by the hand. As the warm Alpine breeze gradually bronzed our faces the same colour as their renowned pasta die, I would congratulate them heartily. Slapping old Alfredo Felicetti on the back and taking another quick sip from my Valpolicella, maybe I'd even propose a toast.

"You have solved one of the biggest culinary challenges ever encountered by man. For years, my enjoyment of pasta has been spoilt by its smooth and uniform texture. At the end of every meal, I would find sauce residue on my plate and ask myself why - with all the expertise and collective wisdom accumulated over generations by the Italian mountain men - has no one thought to produce some truly rough penne that mops up every single drop. You, Signor, and your beloved wife and daughters, have revolutionised pasta production in such a way that meal times will never be the same again. I salute you. And promise you a shelf in the Simply Food store at Marble Arch."

For more food blurb, follow me on Twitter: www.twitter.com/foodman

They all did very well

2009-07-01T15:08:00.000-07:00

Another staff member from the Grace Bros department store has sadly rung up the till for the very last time. Veteran actress Mollie Sugden, who played the formidable Mrs Slocombe, will now be joining her younger colleague Miss Brahms at the ultimate bra and knicker counter in the sky.

It's a sad day for someone like me, who spent an innocent childhood in the 1970s waiting to hear the latest news about Mrs Slocombe's pussy. On the other hand, the show lives on and has been enjoyed by new generations of TV shoppers on both sides of the Atlantic.

One of the remarkable things about Are You Being Served? was that there were only three basic sets. The majority of the action took place on the shopfloor, which was ably policed by Frank Thornton's straight man, Captain Peacock. Important meetings were held in the office of 'old jug-ears', Mr Rumbold. Beyond that, we only really got to see the canteen, where the staff seemed to take a collective lunch break to scoff rissoles. What happened to sales during this period? Presumably the floor was closed to customers between 1 and 2 - an example of the quaint practices that made Grace Bros seem somewhat anachronistic even in the age of Barry Sheen and Harold Wilson.

Are any of the show's original cast still hanging in there? Trevor Bannister is unbelievably now in his early 70s and only a few years younger than Nicholas Smith, who played Mr Rumbold. I hope they both stick it out for a few years yet. As long as one or two of the store's staff are still able to measure an inside leg, there's an outside chance of Grace Bros once again opening its famous elevator doors.

They all did very well - the late Mollie Sugden included. And I am unanimous in that.

Tip of the iceberg

2009-06-30T15:32:00.000-07:00

Mrs W has brought back a lettuce from Waitrose which is still growing.

Where will it all end? Tomatoes on the vine? All seems very unnatural to me.

Don't mention the war

2009-06-27T05:28:00.001-07:00

Basil Fawlty's famous advice to his hotel staff came to mind while reading the autobiography of actor Rodney Bewes. The Yorkshireman, who starred as one of the Geordie Likely Lads in the popular 60s/70s British sitcom, recalls a request from a local POW camp after World War II for his family to entertain a German prisoner at Christmas. His mum volunteered to take two of the Wehrmacht's finest, who turned out to be called Fritz and Kurt. Conversation proved a tad awkward as Grandad Bewes had lost part of his ankle in the Somme during the 1914-18 conflict. The actor makes the telling observation that there is no other country in the world that would have entertained the crazy 'host a POW for Xmas' idea. Only in Britain, eh?

Hey Jacko sweetheart get ur free overnight meds

2009-06-27T05:09:00.001-07:00

The press is full of the bizarre cocktail of prescription drugs taken by tragic pop star Michael Jackson. Anti-depressants and painkillers such as Xanax, Paxil and Vicodin dominate the moonwalking pill-popper's list of meds. It seems to me fairly obvious what happened. Jacko was targeted relentlessly by spammers. 'Gee, Bubbles, those kind folks have sent me another email...'

Making bed your final station stop

2009-06-24T10:20:00.001-07:00

I was discussing with my old friend Hoffy (www.hofflimits.com) how the motion of a train makes both of us want to fall asleep. I don't mean that we sleep together. Hoffy lives in Essex and I frequent the slightly posher commuter routes into Waterloo. No, I'm talking about an independent desire on each of our parts to nod off on what the industry endearingly still describes as 'rolling stock'.

The Hoffmeister can't understand why he sometimes lies awake at home at midnight, unable to sleep, but finds it easy as pie to achieve blissful slumber on the 18.05 to Colchester. He wonders whether he should get a bed which simulates the movement of a train carriage.

It's an interesting idea. I'm sure there's a market for such a device in those supplements that also advertise the beds that tilt you up and down. I'd go further though. First of all, Hoffy needs to delay his departure to bed by approximately 20 mins for no good reason. He then needs to cram himself in with his Mrs on one side and a couple of strangers on the other.

Once settled, he could press a button for a prerecorded announcement. 'This bed is now open for the sale of teas, coffees, freshly made sandwiches and other light refreshments.'

Blocking the toilet before bed and leaving the bathroom door open would, however, be taking things too far.

It's time for a man-to-man chat

2009-06-23T16:27:00.000-07:00

Until a visit to my local pharmacy yesterday, I'd never heard of the Men's Health Forum. It's a registered charity that seems to be working alongside the NHS to issue a number of challenges to British blokes. Ten challenges, to be precise.

I've picked up a leaflet and a handy pocket-sized card that I guess I'm supposed to carry around with me. It warns me that one man under 75 dies every five minutes and is full of matey, patronising advice on how I can avoid a similar fate.

Among the pearls of wisdom is the notion that I should eat more fruit and veg. Not only does this reduce the risk of heart disease and cancer, but it helps 'keep you regular'. Keep me regular? If I want that kind of advice, I can go to my mum, thanks very much.

"Chlamydia isn't a Greek island," continues the wag responsible for drafting the copy, as he 'challenges' me to a check-up. As soon as I've sorted out my constipation, I need to get myself down the clap clinic.

The whole approach is starting to make me a little angry, but I shouldn't forget about Challenge Number 5. "Stressed out? Walk away from tense situations before you blow up."

What kind of bulls**t advice is this? Most stress comes from personal and work relationships that we're often unable to walk away from. That's why they're stressful in the first place. (There's also, incidentally, some good scientific evidence that it's better to express your emotions rather than bottle them up, but that's a whole other discussion.)

And so it goes on. "Get your blood pressure checked in the next two weeks... show a doctor that thing on your body that's bothering you... if you get a backache, don't let it become a pain in the arse..."

One thing's for sure. There's only one pain in the arse here. And that's the idiot who's commissioned this confused, nannyish load of gobbledegook in the first place. My challenge to them is to look in the mirror and see if they are showing any signs of wasting taxpayers' money. There are no symptoms in the early stages, but it can become quite a serious problem in the longer term.

After 30 years, it's time to call in the binmen...

2009-06-22T13:30:00.001-07:00

If there's one thing guaranteed to stand the test of time, it's surely academic research and theorising. Fashions may change and Twitter may replace the telly, but the published thoughts of learned professors are there as a matter of permanent record.

Or are they?

Each Monday evening, I teach a class for Birkbeck College at the London School of Economics. I've been allocated a teaching room on the Accountancy floor and sitting in the corridor is a big box of books.

I haven't had time for a real rummage, but the kind of titles we're talking about include the 1979 proceedings of the University of Alabama's Accountancy Research Convocation. No doubt the controversial papers caused quite a stir at the time. Today, they sit underneath a Post-it note which simply reads: 'Rubbish. Please remove.'

Did it really have to end like this? Haven't the LSE academics considered eBay?

Interesting marketing ploy

2009-06-20T16:11:00.001-07:00

A local plumber has put a leaflet through my door which highlights his key selling points. Alongside his promise of free estimates and 'prompt, courteous service', he tells me that he holds £2m in public liability insurance. Is this supposed to give me peace of mind? Just how much damage can one plumber do?

On second thoughts, he is English. So perhaps it's better to be safe than sorry.

A gag worth conserving

2009-06-19T02:14:00.001-07:00

A nice neighbour of ours produced some homemade 'Obamalade' earlier this year to commemorate the inauguration of south-west London's favourite ever US President. It was very tasty, but I feel we need a bit more political balance. I'm considering putting a note through the door requesting some Ahmadinejam.

A gift for teachers

2009-06-19T02:07:00.001-07:00

Explaining the concept of irony must be quite difficult for school teachers. Once in a while, however, an example comes along that will provide years of service in class.

Conservative Shadow Chancellor George Osborne was revealed yesterday to have charged the British public £47 for DVDs of one his own speeches. The title of his historic oration? Value For Taxpayers' Money.

When advertising goes wrong

2009-06-18T14:31:00.000-07:00

There is surely no business more confused about its advertising messages than Britain's favourite price comparison website, confused.com. One of their current posters on the tube in London captures the supposed views of a happy customer with the following quote: 'I couldn't believe the choice. There's loads of big brands.'

I've personally never felt quite that committed and enthusiastic about the process of purchasing insurance products, but maybe I'm in a minority. Perhaps millions of people have a little extra spring in their step because they've managed to trouser a couple of quid comparing Admiral with Direct Line. It's the substance of the message rather than the general tone that I find hopelessly misguided though.

The idea of confused.com is that we're all confused, right? We're sick of the bewildering choices we're forced to make. And we're cynical about the claims of all the big brands. We therefore head for a comparison site that makes the choices for us and judges products purely on value rather than the marketing or branding budget that's been thrown at them.

Why would anyone who visited confused.com be pleased by the level of 'choice'? And why would they celebrate the presence of the big brands, whose dominance of the marketplace is one of the main reasons for the emergence of the price comparison sites in the first place?

They're no longer obeying orders

2009-06-16T08:45:00.000-07:00

The General responsible for inspecting the German Army has concluded that the country's soldiers are ill-disciplined, lack responsibility and are reluctant to serve their country. If only it had been that way in 1939, eh?

TV just continues to improve

2009-06-14T15:37:00.000-07:00

News of two great new telly shows reached me last week, courtesy of SRO Audiences.

The first programme stars the ever-popular (sic) Gloria Hunniford, who has been charged with investigating the power of angels in our lives.

I'll let SRO take up the story:

The series uses dramatic reconstructions to tell stories of real life angelic experiences; each is uplifting and inspiring acting as the perfect tonic for today’s turbulent times. A panel of experts, including angel expert Glennyce Eckersley, discuss the evidence in a bid to discover if there really are ‘Angels All Around Us’.

How exactly does a person become an 'angel expert', do you think? Is it just through the sheer quantity of angels they've encountered over the years?

I'd like to be able to explain the second show to you, but the blurb has left me none the wiser. In a nutshell, Knowitalls is a quiz without questions, presented by Giles Brandreth.

A quiz without questions?

SRO are quick to explain. It's apparently "where the players (sic) breadth of knowledge is tested to the limit because for the first time, 2 teams of 3 are battling it out to impress real experts on their specialist subjects."

Could one of these real experts be an angel expert, I wonder? If so, I bet they'd be hard to impress.

Wakey wakey

2009-06-09T05:18:00.001-07:00

Researchers at the University of Pennsylvania claim that watching TV before bed leads to poor sleep. One of their suggested reasons is that the telly is replacing the vigorous exercise that might tire us out.

Leaving aside the bizarre idea that people would be exercising late at night if they weren't monitoring Big Brother, the theory has another big hole in it. A couple of days ago, researchers at the Walter Reed Army Medical Centre in Washington DC reported that exercise doesn't, in fact, tire us out. It actually keeps us awake.

I would put the two groups of boffins in touch with each other, but I'm feeling a little sleepy at the moment. Another day.

British journalism at its best

2009-06-03T06:05:00.001-07:00

How about this for a tasteless intro from Daily Mail hack David Gardner?

'For years, he starred on TV as Lieutenant Colombo, the shabby detective whose apparent absent-mindedness hid a razor-sharp brain. But now Peter Falk can no longer remember his most popular role.'

While the fact that the veteran actor has Alzheimer's is a legitimate story, I can't help feeling the connection back to his character's ostensible memory loss is taking the p**s.

2009-06-03T05:49:00.001-07:00

Daily Mail columnist Allison Pearson claims that she is rarely moved to throw her copy of the paper across the kitchen, but that she was driven to this uncivilised act recently by a story of a mother who had given birth at the age of 66. While not having a particularly strong opinion about the aged mum, I can empathise with the desire to hurl a copy of the Mail across the room. It's a reaction produced by the masthead rather than any individual headline.

New threat

2009-06-03T05:41:00.001-07:00

Never mind the swine flu. What about this Tamiflu that everyone's talking about? In some of the schools they've closed, it seems that all the pupils have got it.

Enough crisp gags already

2009-06-03T04:54:00.000-07:00

As a copywriter, I always have a pun in my pocket, although it doesn't necessarily mean that people are pleased to see me. In the workshops I run, I always stress that plays on words can be great for getting an idea across, but shouldn't be a substitute for an idea.

Walkers - the giant crisp brand, fronted by former England footballer Gary Lineker - is currently promoting a 'limited edition' multipack. It allows me to collect points which will provide me with 'fantastic savings' on attractions such as top sporting events and music festivals. In honour of these savings, the flavours have been renamed as follows: Sour Cream & Drive (with an accompanying photo of a golf ball); Roast Beef & Horseracing (picture of a jockey) and Mango-karting Chutney (snap of a mini race track).

This stuff is so desperate that I am inclined to join in the fun.

Another golf flavour would be Tees & Onion, perhaps. Or maybe Worcester Course. And for the music festivals, how about Prawn Rocktail?

Ok. There's an element of sour grapes here. I was promised a party pack for suggesting the duck and plum sauce flavour in their competition last year, but nothing ever arrived. Or should that be duck and scrum?

The new world of instant justice

2009-05-27T15:43:00.000-07:00

I just love the idea of the new 'cyber courts' that are being piloted in the UK. People arrested in shopping malls will receive instant justice through video links to magistrates. The saving to the taxpayer is predicted to be a whopping £10m a year - enough to cover the expenses claims of at least a few of our underpaid MPs.

But why not go the whole hog? If justice were dispensed on the microblogging site Twitter, I'm sure the savings would become even more significant. Prosecution case in 140 characters. Defence in 140 characters. Judgement in a one-word tweet: #guilty or #notguilty. It's an idea that @jackstraw needs to consider seriously.

Sorry, Archbishop, you're wrong on this one...

2009-05-24T11:38:00.000-07:00

Proving once again just how in touch with public opinion he is, the Archbishop of Canterbury yesterday warned against the 'systematic humiliation' of MPs.

His line seems to be that after the recent expenses revelations, we've kind of got the point. No need to carry on beating MPs over the head, because if we do, democracy will suffer.

What a load of old cobblers.

Every individual elector has the right to know whether his or her own MP has put in claims for moats, duck houses, bookshelves etc or 'flipped' their primary residence to claim excessive expenses. The Telegraph's coverage is not merely an exercise in establishing the general principle of greed and dubious moral standards. It is a chance to hold elected representatives to account for their dodgy decisions and ethics.

I'm no theologian, but I would have thought that Christianity was quite strong on the idea of people taking responsibility for their actions. And if, as a result the revelations, democracy emerges tarnished in the eyes of the public, so be it. The anger that people feel will hopefully be translated into radical reform.

A comedy moment in real life

2009-05-24T11:28:00.000-07:00

Sitting in the hairdressing salon yesterday, I found myself staring at a reflection of myself. From the waist up, everything was much as I expected. From the waist down, things were a little disconcerting. It took me a few seconds to work out that the part of the mirror which stretched upwards from the floor was, in fact, an open space. And through this gap, I was actually viewing someone else's legs.

It was much like one of those flip-over books for kids, where you mix and match the top half of one character with the bottom half of another.

Just how influential can a dentist be?

2009-05-21T00:10:00.000-07:00

According to the latest revelations in The Telegraph, Tory MP Sir Paul Beresford is distracted three days a week from his parliamentary duties by the call of dentistry. The former leader of the flagship Thatcherite council in Wandsworth, south London, is of course devoted to his constituents. But he's equally devoted to his patients and seemingly can't choose between them. Service to the Crown doesn't get in the way of servicing crowns.

The paper reports that Sir Paul was named last year as the 34th most "influential" dentist in the UK. Which does beg the question: who are the 33 dentists who've forced their way above him in the list? Are they also knights and parliamentarians, do you think?

One thing's for sure. With The Telegraph, we don't just get the truth exposed. We get the tooth as well.